One Step Too Far

The safehouse was quiet.

Too silent.

Instead of sleeping, I sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at the door to the room where Dante had vanished hours before. His hands were still burning my skin.

This was incorrect. All of it.

The task. The decisions I had made. how he was making me lose myself.

But I was unable to stop.

An Unexpected Attack

It was a faint sound at first. a scrape. A hint of motion.

Then there was gunfire.

Before I even considered it, I was on the move, getting my gun from the nightstand and rolling off the bed. More pictures. Nearer. The sound of booted footsteps filled the safehouse as the front door slammed open.

Fuck.

With my gun in hand, I stormed out of the bedroom.

Dante was already in the living room with his own weapon drawn and only partially dressed. He appeared composed. Too quiet.

His eyes then shifted to me. Breathing heavily, shirtless, barefoot.

His expression changed for a moment.

Something gloomy. There was more to it than the ambush.

However, that was not possible.

Armed and wearing masks, two men burst through the doorway.

With a clean shot to the throat, Dante dispatched the first one.

I was able to get closer to the second one because it hesitated just long enough.

I took hold of his wrist, twisted the gun out of his hand, and then punched him in the ribs. He staggered and grunted, but I continued. I was unable to.

I put my forearm against his throat and pinned him to the wall. "Who sent you?"

I increased my pressure, but the man struggled and choked.

"Speak."

He let out a gasp and scratched at my hold. His gaze shifted from me to Dante.

After that, he grinned.

With a knife in his hand, he flashed silver at my ribs.

Before I could move, Dante did.

Just as the blade cut through the air, his arm slid around my waist and jerked me back, inches from me.

Dante pulled up his gun and shot the man in the skull before I could react.

The wall was sprayed with blood. The corpse fell.

Quiet.

My heart pounded.

The battle was over. Dante's arm, however, remained around me.

His breath brushed against my neck. He held me tightly by the waist. The firm, unwavering warmth of him.

Neither of us made a move.

Neither of us said anything.

Then, slowly and purposefully, Dante's hold relaxed.

Before he released his grip, his fingers dragged over my exposed skin for an excessive amount of time.

I looked over at him.

A bad idea.

We were too near.

from chest to chest. Take a breath.

His dark eyes were fixed on mine. Something unprocessed. I had no idea how to combat it.

I ought to have taken a step back. I ought to have spoken up.

I didn't.

Dante's eyes fell—to my lips. For a moment only.

Then—

He withdrew.

As simple as that.

As if nothing had occurred.

As if I had not been standing there, breathing him in, and still feeling his touch's ghost blazing against my flesh.

Dante's voice was rougher than ever as he combed through his hair. "Luca, get dressed. We are heading out.

I let out a slow breath.

"Yes," I muttered. "Yes."

However, one thought kept coming back to me as I made my way to get my clothes.

I nearly gave him a kiss.

Worse?

I desired to.

As we drove, Dante remained silent.

The only sound between us was the low hum of the Maserati's engine as the city passed in smudges of neon and shadow. I could feel him observing me, but I kept my eyes fixed on the road.

researching me.

I ought to have been considering the ambush. Those men were sent by whom? How were they aware of our location? However, my thoughts remained trapped in that safe haven.

He had grabbed me on the way. The way I was dragged back against him by him.

It was instinct. It must have been.

Dante Valenci spared no effort on sentimentality. had no regard for anyone.

His hands lingered, but why?

I tried to push the thought away as I slowly exhaled. "Where are we heading?"

Dante flicked the ashes out the window after taking a drag from his cigarette. "A quiet place."

I raised an eyebrow. "You do not intend to murder me, do you?"

His mouth twisted a little. "Not this evening."

Not this evening.

He was kidding. However, I was not sure if I trusted him.

The Hideout: A Near Miss

He took me to a location that was not one of his typical safe houses.

It was an old cabin in the middle of the woods, far from the city. concealed. distant.

The floorboards creaked under our weight as I followed him inside. The room was plain, with a worn leather chair, an old fireplace, and wooden surfaces covered in a thick layer of dust.

Dante rolled his shoulders, unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, and placed his gun on the table.

His forearm muscles flexed as he moved, and his arms were covered in dark tattoos.

Before my thoughts could go in an inappropriate direction, I turned my head away.

"Who sent them, in your opinion?" Perched on the edge of the couch, I asked.

After swirling the whiskey in his glass, Dante took a slow sip. "It might be Montoya," he acknowledged. "But I do not believe so."

"Why not?"

With a hand through his hair, Dante let out a breath. "Because he would kill me himself if he wanted me dead."

I scowled. "Then who?"

Dante took a while to respond. Rather, he approached me slowly and deliberately.

I remained motionless.

even after he came to a stop in front of me. even when there was something unsaid in the air between us that made it heavy.

His eyes darted down—to my hands on my knees, to my chest, to my throat.

The heat radiating from him was palpable to me. Close. Too near.

So fucking slowly, Dante reached out and grabbed my wrist.

I gasped.

Not because I was scared. since I wasn't.

since I enjoyed it.

His fingers moved steadily and firmly over my pulse. Assessing. Testing.

And then he looked up at me again. Dark. tense.

"You are still trembling," he whispered.

I took a deep breath. "It is cold."

Dante hummed. "Liar."

My heart leaped.

This was risky.

I ought to have retreated. I didn't.

My wrist was slightly tighter in Dante's grasp. Enough.

In a low voice, he remarked, "You do not hesitate in a fight." "But with me, you hesitate."

I gave a sharp exhale. "I don't—"

"You do," I said. His thumb barely touched my skin, but it was enough to make my stomach knot.

Fuck.

There was a limit to this. We were on the verge of something we did not want to call it.

I had the option to lean in.

I could have given him a kiss.

And I was not sure he would stop me for the first time.

However, then—

Dante relaxed his hold. Letting go, he took a step back as if nothing had occurred.

As if I had not just been imagining how his hands would feel in a different place for the past thirty seconds.

He turned away and muttered, "Get some rest." "This will be handled in the morning."

The moment vanished in an instant.

The fire, however, continued to burn.

Furthermore, I doubted that either of us would make it through.